


Random Twoset fluff

by 005



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/005/pseuds/005
Summary: Just random events of domestic life. Couple that doesn’t even know they’re a couple
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Selfish Prick

“Why the fuck would you wear your Gucci sneakers to the mountains?!”

Brett pinched the bridge of his nose. He and Eddy decided to go sightseeing during their trip to California and Brett picked a nearby park to hike in.

“How am I supposed to know that it would snow? It’s freaking California!” Eddy whined as he rubbed his frost bitten feet against the back of his shins.

“I told you it would be cold, 2 degrees cold,” Brett sighed rubbing his face, “And it’s the mountains! Who wears dress shoes to the mountains?!”

“You said we would stay in the car the whole time! Besides, I can’t go around wearing big ass turd boots,” Eddy retorted looking pointedly at Brett’s feet.

“Well at least these big ass turd boots are doing their damn job and keeping my feet warm,” Brett shot back.

Eddy sniffed and kept on walking. _Just keep walking_ , he told himself, _the faster you walk, the sooner you’ll get back to the car_. That was a motherfucking lie. Brett, that asshole, took his sweet time taking pictures of the trees, the scenery, the other mountains, the snow. He took a picture of. Every. Fucking. Thing.

“Can you hurry up?!” Eddy bounced on his feet. “I can’t feel my toes anymore!”

Fucking Brett simply bent down to take a picture of a bunch of ugly mushrooms. More than an hour passed, or so Eddy thought.

“Brett, I think I have frostbite.”

Brett looked over at his friend. Eddy was staring at him with eyes as wide as a cats and his mouth was slightly open. Brett sighed and returned to his camera.

“Stop joking, man.”

“Brett, please. Can we go back now? I really think my toes fell off.”

Brett laughed drily. It was rather funny seeing his friend all serious and concerned while also being an over dramatic queen. Eddy lunged for Brett’s collar.

“I’m not kidding. Here, feel my feet.”

“Gross!”

Brett tried to yank his hand away but Eddy held him in an iron grip. A really cold, iron grip.

“I don’t want to touch your stinking feet!”

“Come on, Brett. Feel how cold they are. I’m not kidding. I’m a literal ice cube.”

Brett doubled over in laughter over the absurdity of the whole scene. Two grown ass men holding hands in the middle of a forest while arguing and bickering over feet.

“Oh my god,” Brett managed to wheeze out, “Eddy. I don’t want to. Touch your—god—your stinking ass feet.”

“Brett I’m freezing. Do you even know what’s it like? Huh? Can you feel how fucking cold I am?!”

“Jeez, Eddy. Calm down,” Brett replied.

He looked at his Twoset watch. They only spent ten minutes in the park.

“—seeping into my socks. I can literally feel snow. Snow. Inside my socks. Do you know how cold your feet have to be to have snow in them?! I am—”

“Okay, okay. Shut up, okay? We’ll go back now. Happy?”

Brett had enough of Eddy’s incessant rants and complaints. He also felt bad seeing his friend shivering nonstop. Besides, he was pretty bored and irritated now, too.

“Wait. Back down this mountain? Covered in snow?” Eddy stared at the trail in disbelief. “Why don’t I just climb to the top then?”

Brett was speechless. Literally.

“Wha—what. What the fuck. What the actual fuck? Yeah no, we’ll just take the helicopter down. Yeah, no problem. Just take the helicopter,” Brett stuttered. He was taken aback by Eddy’s childish selfishness.

“Bretttt,” Eddy cried, “The snow is freezing my feet off. I can’t step in it for another second.”

“Well what do you want me to do then? Carry you down there? Call—“ Brett stopped.

Eddy was smiling like he had a brilliant idea. He pointed at Brett and started nodding his head.

“No. Absolutely not. You’re too heavy. Like... like... uh... like a bass! Anyway, we’re not doing it. No way. No. That’s my answer. No.”

Brett was mistaken. Sighing, he readjusted Eddy while navigating the narrow path, which was not an easy task, being sandwiched between a backpack and a 200 pound human. Plus another backpack. Eddy, on the other hand, was feeling much better. He even swung his feet around a bit.

“How you feeling back there,” Brett asked sarcastically, “enjoying the view?”

“Nah,” Eddy dismissed. “Same as usual.”

“Listen here, mate. I am carrying you. Which means I can throw you off this cliff anytime I want. You wanna see?”

“No thank you,” Eddy muttered.

“Then shut up.”

They continued like this for another ten minutes. Occasionally, Brett would slip on purpose and his heart would feel better every time Eddy yelped and clung tighter to him.

“Alright your highness. We have arrived.”

Brett unceremoniously dumped Eddy onto the pavement.

“Ow!” Eddy rubbed his bum. “1/10. Learn how to fucking walk.”

“Get in the car, asshole.”

On the way back, Eddy took of his shoes and examined his toes. He was half expecting them to break off and fall into his socks like grapes.

“Like what you see?” Brett asked while keeping his eyes on the road. Why the hell did Americans drive on the left side?

“Yep. Here you wanna see?”

Eddy lifted his bright red feet in front of Brett’s face.

“Gah!” Brett had to swerve to avoid a nearby tree. “What the hell?! I’m driving! Also, please wash your feet next time you take a shower.”

Eddy’s laughed. He snuggled closer into his blanket.

“You know what would be nice?” Eddy wondered, “a nice cup of hot chocolate.”

“Fuck off, you selfish prick.”


	2. They Look Like Shit

It was impossible for snow to fall in Australia but today it did. Every surface was covered in soft, white powder and the whole landscape looked like someone photoshopped a white background. That is, if the world was Eddy and Brett’s kitchen and the snow was flour. 

“How did it get into your goddamn mind to vacuum flour?!” Brett yelled.

“Well do you have a better way to do it then?!” Eddy yelled back. “Besides who told you to dump it into the trash can while holding the vacuum a meter above it, huh?”

“I didn’t know flour was going to fly everywhere!”

“Well it did! I’m going to be shitting powdered shit for weeks, now!”

“I didn’t know your dumplings can drop from your anus!”

“Brett, you do realize that we both made these dumplings right?”

Brett looked down at the platter. Three droopy sacs of leaking meat stared sadly back at him.

“Really? They look like shit.”

Eddy groaned. His grandmother was coming from Taiwan, on New Year’s Day, just for Eddy, and he had promised his mother that he would bring two trays of dumplings. Now, gazing at his pathetic creations, he realized a little crack in his plans: he couldn’t even make one dumpling, let alone two whole trays.

Eddy sank onto a chair and started massaging his head. Fighting with Brett was not his priority. Brett also pulled a chair up. 

“We’re toast.”

Eddy could only groan in agreement. Depression now felt very real to him. Even if Hilary Hahn came in right now, he still wouldn’t be happy. Even if he was gifted a Stradivarius, he wouldn’t be—wait, actually he would sort of be happy if he was given a Strad. But still. What were the chances of a ten million dollar violin just waltzing—

“Eddy,” Brett shook his friend’s arm. “Eddy. I just realized something.”

“That the chance of Stradivarius coming in the mail would be so extremely slim that it would be nearly impossible?”

“What? No. I just realized I made a pun. Remember when you said you would shit powdered poop?”

“Yeah?” Eddy wondered what was going on in Brett’s mind.

“Then I compared it to the dumplings we made right?”

“Yeah...”

“And then, do you remember what I said?”

Eddy furrowed his brows together when he tried to remember their fight. His memory wasn’t that good.

“Wait.” He whipped his head to look at Brett. 

Brett nodded excitedly.

“You said ‘they look like—‘“

“—SHIT.”

They two of them howled with laughter. 

“How did I not realize that,” Eddy snorted while wiping tears from his eyes.

He was answered by Brett’s hacking coughs, who tried to laugh but, instead, inhaled more flour.

“Wait, wait , wait,” Eddy slurred while trying to gain his composure.

He grabbed Brett’s wrists and looked at him in the eyes. Brett tried to calm down but his mouth was still twitching. 

With the straightest face Eddy could manage, he said, “What did one dumpling say to the other?”

Brett looked at him quizzically until realization hit him like a drop kicking kangaroo.

“WE ARE SHIT!” 

Mrs. Chen looked at her dining room. Two, circular tables were draped with white table cloths and decorated with sets of bowls and utensils. She sighed. The table was set up, the seats were enough, her relatives and the Yang family were not held back by traffic, and most importantly, Eddy had delivered the two trays of dumplings like he promised. Mrs. Chen could finally say it now: everything was perfect.

The room was bustling and filled with people. Everyone found a place to sit although some of them brought their significant others and Mrs. Chen was forced to get her most unworthy form of seating, plastic, little, fold-in stools with the cartoon sheep stickers. She gave two to Eddy and Brett and told them to find a coffee table to eat at. They surprisingly complied without a word.

When everyone was seated, the toasting began. Each uncle stood up to say a word or two, usually inappropriate but the ever-prepared Mrs. Chen had already moved the children to another table to eat at, and finish with a blessing to the matriarch, Eddy’s grandmother. 

After everyone had a turn, the food was brought out. Vegetable dishes, meat platters, and the most valuable one, the dumplings. The matriarch gingerly picked up the first dumpling and bit it. Everyone waited with bated breath for her judgement. 

Eddy’s grandma said at last to Mrs. Chen, “孩子，我看来你只教我的孙子这么买饺子，是吧？“


	3. Tutoring Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU where Brett and Eddy meet in high school

If every college student during finals week was merged into one subconscious, it would be manifested into the man standing before Eddy. His eyes reminded Eddy of those action scenes where a character dies and the other people had to close their eyes. Well right now, Eddy’s hands were itching to cover that man’s blank eyes.

“Are you Eddy?” The zombie’s mouth articulated without shifting its lips.

Hesitantly, Eddy affirmed his identity. The dead man slowly reached for Eddy’s ears and Eddy was too confused to even stop him. _Are we going to kiss? I mean I’ve never kissed a corpse before but, hey, wouldn’t hurt to try._

Eddy obviously had his priorities straight, having no qualms about kissing a stranger. He leaned forwards into the man’s icy cold hands. Which then preceded to snatch Eddy’s airpods and break them in one sickening wrench.

Eddy could feel his face slowly becoming the 3 panel blinking man meme. _What. The. Fuck_. The murdered however, was unfazed and stared right back at Eddy with unblinking, dead-on-the-inside eyes.

“Did you just crush my airpods with your hands?”

“Yeah.” “And may I ask what they did to deserve such a violent end to their beautiful lives?” “They were being fucking annoying and glitching my laptop. Oh that reminds me, can I have your case too?”

Eddy unquestionably handed his case over. _What kind of human has muscles in his finger_ s, he asked the universe.

The zombie snapped Eddy’s case in half, effectively ending its short duration on Earth.

 _That one_ , the universe replied.

The man then shuffled away, leaving unrecognizable pieces of steel and wires on the desk. Eddy was slightly aroused.

-

A week later, Eddy was back at the library. His music theory teacher gave him an ultimatum. Get a B on the finals or fail the whole class, and judging by Eddy’s current grade of a D-, he had no choice but to use his brand-new, never-used-before brain for once.

Humming to a rather vigorous solo by Mendelssohn, Eddy sauntered over to his usual spot. His newly ordered airpods were yet to be delivered so he was using his Beats wireless headphones instead. _Hmm, maybe I should switch to headphones instead_ , Eddy mused as he tapped his fingers to the piece. The noise cancelling function was certainly useful.

Too useful even. Eddy made a throat on the back of his throat that he was very glad he could not hear when someone tapped his shoulder. Swiveling his head back, he was greeted with cold sweat and a racing heartbeat. It was the animated corpse again. He held his hand out and Eddy dutifully handed him his $400 Beats headphones. Again, the killer swiftly ended its life as its predecessors, this time with two wrenches to the speakers.

“Next time, I break your fingers,” the man warned and walked away.

 _I’m never coming back here_ , Eddy swore.

-

Mrs. Lee stared at Eddy over her horn-rimmed glasses. She sighed as she handed Eddy his last quiz, with a big, sparkling ‘F’ adorning the heading.

“Okay,” Eddy cleared his throat, “first of all, in my defense, there was a psycho in the library, who kept stealing my, uh, study materials—“

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Eddy,” Mrs. Lee cut in. “This is music theory. It’s the easiest elective in school. I’m afraid if you can’t pass this class, you can’t graduate.”

Eddy groaned. Music theory was as easy as connecting five Switches to the TV when his friends came over, fucking impossible.

“But, lucky for you, a senior is willing to tutor you. He will be waiting for you tomorrow in the library at 3 o’clock sharp.”

“What?” Eddy spluttered, “Mrs. Lee, you can’t. You can’t just schedule an extracurricular course for me. I don’t agree to this.”

Mrs. Lee arched a dark blue eyebrow, old Asian ladies be like that sometimes, and sighed.

“Eddy, I’m afraid your grades demand otherwise. Besides, the senior I am recommending is a genius. And only a genius can save you.”

“But, but I can’t go to the library. A psychopath is waiting to kill me,” Eddy insisted.

Mrs. Lee turned on him sharply.

“Eddy. You will go.”

Eddy wished he was smart enough to say that Mrs. Lee was overstepping her boundaries as a educator which could lead to her possible unemployment but he could only cleverly retort ‘no you’ under his breath.

-

Eddy sat down on the chair with a grunt. He would be damned if he went to tutoring. Eddy had no problem studying, per se, but he didn’t like following rules, especially from nosy, boundary hopping teachers. So, being the rebel he was, Eddy skipped his lesson and made a wise move to spend his time in the coffee store directly across from the library.

The air con was on full blast and Mozart was playing in Eddy’s new airpods. Eddy loved days like this. Yes, he was doing nothing and procrastinating everything, but now he had an excuse.

 _I’m outside, bitch_ , Eddy told his inner conscience.

 _You could go to tutoring_ , his mind replied, offhandedly.

Eddy flicked a lazy glance towards the library.

_Not was a manic serial killer inside, can I?_

_Well, said serial killer is here, too_.

Eddy shot up from his sunk down position and yelped from the pain. His back ached like an iron pipe being re-straightened, popping and cracking in joints Eddy was sure did not exist. In his weird, 60-year-old-man-twisted-his-hip position, he craned his head to look inside the cafe, and sure enough, the murderer was inside. And he was staring right back at him.

Eddy flung his chair to the side and dashed away. His feet, however, during his little stretch, had gone numb. Eddy clutched the table trying to blink away the tears in his eyes. His lower body stung like it just swallowed a tub full of black peppercorn after being dipped in a chamber of angry hornets.

The man came out and narrowed his eyes at Eddy.

“You’re Eddy Chen, aren’t you.”

“Yep.”

Eddy bit his tongue, hard, to prevent the screams of agony and help from leaking out of his mouth as his new tutor dragged him inside.

-

TBC


	4. Deafening Silence

Silence. What a strange concept. It is the absence of sound. Or is it really? Sometimes, if one strains the ear and sharpens the focus, it can be heard, the faintest drone. A small chattering. Now it has grown to an even mixture of ringing and buzzing. Suddenly it shift, from the right ear to the left, before it opens up to a general hum.

The receptionist at the Mayflower, however, does not concern herself with such idle thoughts. Far more important subjects required her attention.

_...hands must clasp neatly in front of the stomach ... feet must always open to a perfect 45 degree angle ... hair must never slip past the shoulders ... the back must always be straight... head should tilt upwards but the nose must never be in the air... facial expressions should be welcoming but not over emotional..._

Over and over again, the company protocol swims though her mind like a train on a circular track, fixing any imperfection in her posture. Occasionally the head will lift too high or the shoulders start to curve before they snap back in place, like a robot reassembling itself.

_Click. Snap_. Silence.

Hours drift by on the old grandfather clocked but the woman’s body flows to a stop. Blood solidifies in her veins and oxygen no longer enters her lungs. She could not tell which finger belongs to which hand nor what visage adorns her face.

The hotel slowly dies with her. Dust mites no longer wander and settle down to spend their olden days. The clouds retired from the sea and tie themselves to the dock outside the windows. She could feel in her bones, the ceasing of the guests’ breaths in their sleep. Even the molecules in the air come to a halt. Only the thrum of silence continues.

The revolving doors shift, the barest hint movement in the hotel. Then they whirl open and two men burst in, scattering the sleeping dust. The hearth roars back into action and the clouds begin their journey once again. The charm is broken and the room is alive again.

The two men shiver in their winter coats and drop their bags in front of the desk. The cold air slaps their cheeks into a bright apple red and their noses are chapped from the constant rubbing of snot. They bring in so much noise with them, whether it is from the tramping of their boots, the ruffling of their jackets, or the huffing of their breaths as they try to warm their stiff hands.

“Hey-“ one of the men dips his eyes down to read the receptionist’s name on her chest- “Jane, sorry it’s so late but can we book a room?”

Jane’s joints creak as hours of rust crackle off her skin. Dormant muscles come alive and and her heart revives itself from its deep slumber.

“Of course,” she says, her voice squeaking near the beginning and rising in the end.

Jane coughs discreetly as her ears burn and her cheeks warm up. You must give the customers the best service, she remembers her boss lecturing her on her first day. Jane searches through the available rooms quickly and is about to recommend a twin bed room but swallows her voice dies at her throat when she sees the scene in front of her.

The two men are...kicking each other and... full on laughing their ugliest laughs. It was a marvelous sight.

The taller one nails a good thrust to the other man’s shins but did not pull his feet away in time and was the victim of his companion’s stomp. Jane tries to stifle her giggles but they escaped through their corners of her lips. The two men lifted their heads and smile bashfully at her before shyly shuffling back to the desk. Jane is ducks her head down from the sudden eye contact and becomes aware of her thumping heart. She decides to play along with them.

“Okay, there is a room available on the second floor, number 239. Here are the keys and a brochure of our specialties including a spa, a bar, two restaurants, and a gym. Enjoy your stay here!”

The men thank her, grab their luggage and hurry away to their room. Jane chuckles to herself. That encounter was so strange and surreal, two childish adults appearing in the dead of night, completely ignoring the solemnity of the lobby. Jane shakes her head as she resumes her perfect position but this time, she smiles genuinely.

“Jesus Alex, you would not believe what happened,” Eddy whines as he plops down onto the chair outside the cafe.

Brett sits down after him and sets down their coffee.

“What happened,” Alex asks absentmindedly as he picks out his coffee.

“We got a double room—”

“AGAIN,” finishes Brett.

“And it only had one bed,” Eddy cries.

Alex frowns as he sips his coffee. “Isn’t this like the third time already?”

“YES,” they both groan.


End file.
